


Final Farewells

by Soledad



Series: Travellers' Tales [3]
Category: Doctor Who (2005), Torchwood
Genre: Awesome Toshiko Sato, F/M, Gratutious Star Trek references, With brothers like that who needs enemies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-17
Updated: 2016-07-17
Packaged: 2018-07-24 14:29:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7511869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Soledad/pseuds/Soledad





	1. Love

**PART ONE – LOVE**

Few samurai had ever loomed so large in Japanese history and lore as Minamoto no Yoshitsune, the brilliant young warlord of the late Heian era and the unquestioned hero of the Genpei War, whose military genius won most of the major battles for his brother, the Kamakura _shôgun_. A doomed man, who was forced to take his own life, only four years after his spectacular victories, by the same ungrateful brother.

As one of the most popular tragic heroes, Yoshitsune’s life and deeds had been immortalized in tales, folklore poems and plays – even in the diaries of contemporary nobles, friends and foes alike. Every child in Japan could tell those tales for centuries to come; and even nine hundreds years after his death, his popularity remained unbroken and lived on in various branches of modern media.

But there had been a short period in his life that no-one knew about. A time, shortly after the victorious Battle of Dan-no-ura, when he’d met a strange man travelling through space and time, and a woman from nine hundred years in the future, with whom he had fallen in desperate love – and whom he’d had to let go again.

No-one had ever known that he’d travelled in that time ship for a while, had seen the terrible beauty of the stars, visited foreign worlds too alien to describe even in the finest of poetry – and then returned to his own time, knowing all too well that he would go to meet his untimely death. He had done so to make sure that the future would not be changed and the woman he had come to love more than life itself _would_ be born.

He had never regretted his decision. He had done what he had to do, and was ready to end his life. He had already had done his duty towards his wife, Kimi, and their little daughter, killing them with his own hands, so that they would not fall into the hand of his enemies. He had already composed his death poem; all he needed to do now was to go the way of the warrior and take his life.

He had laid out his _tantô_ , unsheathed it and was about to open his robes for completing the _seppuku_ , when a strange, wheezing and groaning noise broke his concentration… a noise he had last heard four years ago. He could barely believe his ears… or his eyes, when a battered blue box, looking suspiciously like a garden shed, materialized in the middle of the castle chapel.

The door of the… the _thing_ opened and out peered a tall man with short-cropped hair and pale blue eyes, wearing a very familiar-looking leather jacket.

“Seems safe enough,” he announced, before vanishing in the inside of the box again. “We’ve come in time.”

Through the open door a petite woman walked out, with shoulder-length hair and glasses before her eyes. She wore similar outlandish clothes and held a small bundle in her arm. Despite her changed appearance, Yoshitsune recognized her at once.

“Toshiko,” he said in awe. “Have you come to say your farewells, after all?”

Upon their parting, she had made adamantly clear that she was _not_ coming to witness his death. He wondered what had made her change her mind.

“No,” she replied. “I’ve come to present you your son.”

She walked over to him, sat next to him, cross-legged, and placed the small bundle on his knees. It was a child, probably two or three months old, and he looked up to his father with beetle-black eyes and a toothless smile.

“Our son,” Yoshitsune whispered. “But how…? You told me you could not have any children at that time.”

She shrugged. “That was what I _thought_. Apparently, I was mistaken. I wanted you to know, and the Doctor agreed to make a little detour between two cosmic phenomena to pay you a last visit.”

Carefully balancing the child on his knees, Yoshitsune leaned in to kiss her. She kissed back with desperate need.

“I am eternally grateful that you have come,” he said. “And I am even more grateful that I shall never be forced to do the same for you and for _this_ child that I had to do for Kimi and our daughter,” he gave her a searching look. “You knew I’d have to kill them, didn’t you?”

She nodded gravely. “Of course. The tales are full of detail about that particular tragedy.”

“And yet you never told me…”

“What good would that have done either of us?” she asked with a shrug. “At least this way you had a little delight in your new wife and your daughter… as long as it lasted.”

He sighed. “Perhaps you are right. I did like her well enough, and I loved our little girl. It is fortunate that my main wife and our eldest are protected by the imperial court and won’t have to share my fate.”

“I am so very sorry for what you had to do,” she said gently.

“So am I,” he answered slowly. “But it’s still better than having them dragged before the feet of Yoritomo and executed publicly,” for a moment, he listened to the noise coming from outside. “They are getting closer. You should go now.”

“I will,” she kissed him. “I still don’t want to see you dead. You might be a legend in my time; but for me, you’ll always be alive… just distant.”

“What will become of our child?” he asked. “Will you take him to the future? To your time? Will he be safe there?”

She nodded. “He will grow up with my mother and grandfather; and Tomoe will stay with them to protect him.”

“You think that would be wise?” Yoshitsune became concerned. “Tomoe has no love for me. I had my part in the death of Kiso, after all… and _not_ a small one.”

“Tomoe knows who ordered Kiso’s death,” she replied. “She finds it… satisfying to ensure that _your_ line endures centuries beyond that of your brother. _And_ she owes the Doctor a life debt.”

“It is good then,” he said, reassured. “One more thing before you leave; what is his name?”

“You are his father,” she answered simply. “You name him.”

Yoshitsune suddenly grinned, remembering their old argument about the importance of names and their meaning, and why one should _never_ shorten someone else’s name without their consent.

“I have it in my mind to name him Yoshi,” he said.

“That’s a good name,” she agreed with a straight face. “With a noble meaning: justice, morality and honour. Worthy goals for the son of a warrior.”

“They are indeed,” he said, and they both laughed, albeit a little sadly, knowing that in the safe future Yoshi Satô would be spared the necessity to end his life the way his father would shortly be forced to do.

“Toshiko,” the Doctor looked out of the TARDIS, “we must go. Benkei has fallen, and they’ll be here any second now.”

“Wait,” Yoshitsune stopped her for a moment. “Before you leave, please accept my death poem.”

She took the scroll offered to her and skimmed it briefly.

“This isn’t a death poem,” she said, her eyes brimming with tears. “This is a love poem.”

Yoshitsune inclined his head in agreement. “So it is – is there truly a difference?”

“Not for us, I’m afraid,” she admitted, the tears starting to roll down her face.

He kissed the child’s brow and murmured the ritual words of acceptance, then handed him back to her. “Take him and leave me now,” he said. “It is time for me to go.”

She kissed him, took the poem and the child and hurried back to the TARDIS.

“I love you,” she said before the doors closed behind her. “I always will.”

The awesome time machine was still about to fully dematerialize when Yoshitsune set the _tantô_ to perform the act expected from an honourable warrior.

~ End of Part One ~


	2. Hatred

**PART TWO – HATRED**

Minamoto no Yoritomo, also known as the Kamakura Lord, founder of the first _bakafu_ , the first _shōgunate_ in the history of Japan and currently the mightiest man of the country, was having a bad day. Things were _not_ going the way he had planned them to go, and _that_ annoyed him to no end.

“I hoped that getting that bothersome brother of mine out of the way would calm things down," he complained to his main wife, Hōjō Masako, to whom he had been married for ten years by now. “And yet even after I had his head paraded across the streets of Kamakura, people don’t seem to cease mourning him and praising his deeds.”

His wife shrugged. “What did you expect, Saburō?” she asked, using the nickname that marked him as the third son of his father. “Kurō won a war for you; the greatest war of our times that subdued the Taira forever. And what did you do to award him? You hunted him down and forced him to kill his wife and child; and to take his own life.”

“He was rebelling against me!” the _shōgun_ pointed out heatedly. His wife shrugged again.

“That may be so; but you had been unjust to him while he was still being faithful and obedient, listening to Kajiwara no Kagetoki’s slander instead of believeing your own brother. You humiliated him after his greatest victory, denying him the right to enter Kamakura; you even ordered Noriyori to arrest him. Was _that_ supposed to strengthen his loyalty?”

“And Noriyori promptly sided with him against me,” Yoritomo groused.

His wife shook her head in exasperation.

“No, he did not; he is still standing behind you like a protective rock wall, isn’t he? But he was not so blinded by jealousy as not to realize that nothing is so hard to fight against as a dead hero. By having Yoshitsune ill-used and killed, you have created a much worse enemy that he could have ever become alive.”

Few people would have dared to confront the mightiest (and probably most stubborn) man of Japan with such uncomfortable truths and live to tell the tale. But – unlike the majority of other marriages of his era – his and Hōjō Masako’s marriage had been born of great love and respect and still existed on that basis. He valued her insights beyond the counsels of his followers and never regretted it.

He wished now he had asked her _before_ sending out an army to slay his youngest brother and his meagre handful of retainers. Or that he had listened to her objections when he had ordered the beheading of Shizuka Gozen, Yoshitsune’s mistress, and their newborn son. But it was too late to change those things now; and he had to see how to make the best of the consequences.

“I must go now, my lady. A landowner of Izu Province had asked to see me and I agreed. Would you care to listen from behind the _shōji_? This is one person I am being in doubt about.”

She nodded in agreement and followed him to the _moya_ of the estate, hiding behind a movable wall in the northern _hisashi_. This was how she always supported him; by watching his guests and retainers and judging them by their reactions and the things they did _not_ say openly.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
Yoritomo’s residence was unparalleled in Kamakura and clearly mirrored his power and importance. There were samurai quarters inside and outside of the estate grounds, each sixteen bay long. In the outer quarters, rows of kinsmen and other retainers sat cross-legged, shoulder to shoulder. In the inner quarters, the Minamoto lords occupied the upper seats, and rows of great and small landholders the lower ones. The place of the guest of honour of the day had already been prepared in the Minamoto section; it was an eave-chamber, equipped bit purple-edged matting.

The blinds had been raised to reveal the _michōdai_ , the _shōgun_ ’s elevated seat of state, with matting edged in black and white damask. The space containing the _michōdai_ was, according to custom, framed along the north and open side with removable, sliding painted _shōji_ door panels.

Yoritomo entered the room through the main door, attired in his unfigured hunting robe, the _kariginu_ , and the high _eboshi_ cap. Like his legendary brother, whom he had just recently kicked out of the way of his undivided power, he was a small man, with a somewhat large face and handsome features.

At first sight, no-one would have guessed him to wield such unchallenged power. But the men present – all powerful and well-respected personages themselves – knew all too well that their lives (and those of their families) depended on his goodwill. Thus they made deep obeisances as he walked up to his place between their rows.

Yoritomo took his seat of state with the ceremonial stiffness required from a man of his rank and position and was about to summon today’s guest of honour into his august presence when a strange noise interrupted the peace of his daily routine. It was a peculiar wheezing, groaning sound, as if an old wooden house would be finally falling to pieces, after having bested wind and weather for centuries.

Parallel to the noise, a sort of small whirlwind swept over the moya, tearing loosely-held paper fans from people’s hands, throwing over _shōji_ panels that had not been fastened properly and causing general disarray all around. Finally, before any real panic could have broken out, the whirlwind settled down, and in the centre of the disturbance stood _something_ … something that looked like a garden shed. A not very attractive garden shed, painted a rather ugly shade of blue.

Yoritomo was still too shocked to call for armed guards when the door of the thing opened. Golden light spilled out of the opening, engulfing the immediate surroundings of the box like a transparent shield, and a tall, beautiful woman wearing a robe vaguely resembling a formal _kazami_ stepped out, holding a child on her arm. A small child that couldn’t be any older than a few months, but already had his wisp of dark hair bound in a courtier boy’s loops.

“Tomoe Gozen!” one of the Minamoto retainers who had once been close to Kiso no Yoshinaka blurted out in surprise. “But you are dead!”

“Not as dead as your unworthy and inferior new master would wish me to be,” she replied with a disdainful scow.”

Several of Yoritomo’s retainers jumped to their feet and grasped the hilt of their swords to avenge the insult thrown at their lord. But Tomoe just stared at them with utter loathing.

“You would like to take my head and become famous as the ones who had slain Tomoe Gozen, wouldn’t you?” she tainted them. “Well, forget it. As long as I stay within this light, you cannot touch me… and I am not foolish enough to get any closer. I’m not here to fight. I have brought a message for Yoritomo.”

It was grossly disrespectful to call the mightiest man of the country by his given name, without any honorific title, but she was clearly beyond caring. Not showing whom she might be allied now – and not leaving magical manipulations or an alliance with vengeful ghosts out of consideration – the _shōgun_ chose to err on the safe side.

“Whom is the message from?” he asked.

“From your dead brother, Yoshitsune,” she replied, lifting the child in her arms a little. “This is his son and heir. You may have Shizuka’s child killed right after birth, but this one you won’t be able to touch. This one I shall take with me to a place well beyond your reach. I shall keep him safe. And in a thousand years from now, when your line has long died out, Kurō’s descendants will still be walking the Nine Provinces, holding up the legend of their father and marking _you_ as a traitor of your family and a kinslayer for eternity.”

Whether it was prophetic speech or simple curse, the shocked, gawking crowd could not tell. The door of the blue thing opened a little wider, and a petite woman in strange, foreign clothes peered out.

“Tomoe, we have to go. I’ve mapped the temporal flux, and if we don’t leave within ten minutes, it could…” she interrupted herself an stared at the _shōgun_ with sorrow-clouded eyes. “That’s him, isn’t it? The ungrateful git that drove Kurō to death?”

Tomoe nodded. “That he is. The Kamakura Lord in the flesh.”

The smaller woman shook her head, clearly spooked. “This is creepy. They even look very alike.”

“They are – _were_ – brothers, after all,” Tomoe pointed out.

“With brothers like him, who needs enemies?” the smaller woman commented dryly. “Anyway, we have to go. _Now_.”

“You think you can hide from me?” Yoritomo sneered, having recovered his voice. “You cannot. Wherever you go, I shall hunt you down, you and that worthless little worm of my brother’s.”

“Really?” the smaller woman asked with a mocking smile. “Can you follow me to the future? Then you are welcome to try… and experience the joys of epic failure.”

She took the babe from Tomoe and went back into the strange garden shed, without a backward look. Before following her, Tomoe turned to Yoritomo for a moment.

“Four warriors of the Genpei War will be praised, admired and immortalized in tale, song, poem and play,” she said. “Tomomori and Noritsune from the Taira side and Kiro no Yoshinaka and Kurō Tayu no Hōgan Yoshitsune from ours. Two leaders will be shamed and mentioned with the deepest contempt forewer: Taira no Munemori for being a coward and you for being an envious, power-hungry and ungrateful fool. You will have power for many years, yes. But you will also have shame, for eternity, while Kiso and Kurō will be celebrated as heroes. This is my vengeance and my comfort; and know that I shall still be protecting Kurō’s line when yours will be long dead.”

With that, she stepped back into the blue box and the door fell shut behind her. The small whirlwind arose again, and accompanied by that peculiar noise, the box simply faded out of existence before their very eyes.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
“I told you,” Hōjō Masako said to her distraught husband somewhat later, in the intimacy of her private rooms. “A dead hero is the hardest thing to fight. It’s not an enemy you could harm any longer.”

“Do you believe they told me the truth?” Yoritomo asked. “Is it possible to travel through time? To visit the future?”

“Is it possible to step into a garden shed and be carried away by the whirlwind safely?” his wife asked back. “And yet that was what we saw happening.”

“It could have been a trick; an illusion,” Yoritomo said.

“True,” his wife agreed. “But even if it _was_ an illusion, people will tell their friends and family what they saw; or what they _believe_ they saw. It will be all over the Nine Provinces within days, and like a self-fulfilling prophecy, it will leave a mark of shame on your name, whatever you do.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
And so it came that while history would remember Minamoto no Yoritomo as the successful lord who had created the new feudal order of Japan, ruled by the warrior caste, the people would remember him as a man jealous of his influence and power. Jealous enough to have his own brother – who had helped him to gain said power – hunted and killed. And whenever his achievements would be remembered, people would also remember his shame.

Yoshitsune and his mistress, Shizuka, however, became the heroes of many legends and were immortalized in art, even near a millennium later. Yoshitsune would become the epitome of a tragic hero, beloved and admired by all.

In twenty-first century Osaka, a fatherless boy named Yoshi Satō would grow up under the tutelage of his maternal grandmother and under the protection of an honorary aunt. He would become an exceptional mathematician, like his maternal great-grandfather, and also well-versed in the traditional martial arts. Both these talents would prove very useful when he would get selected as the only Japanese member of the first manned Mars-expedition.

Another century later, _his_ great-granddaughter, Hoshi Satō, would be selected as the communications officer and linguist of the Enterprise, the first Warp-capable starship of Earth under the command of Captain Jonathan Archer, carrying the noble heritage of Minamoto no Yoshitsune to the stars.

~The End~


End file.
